


Nothing At All

by missberrycake



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-20
Updated: 2012-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 17:13:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missberrycake/pseuds/missberrycake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Arthur is not all that he seems.</p>
<p>Inspired by <a href="http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/19632.html?thread=48010416#t48010416">this prompt</a> on the Inception kink-meme: "Ghost!Arthur</p>
<p>Eames moves into an old house that his neighbors claim is haunted. The house being "haunted" doesn't bother Eames at all because he doesn't believe in ghosts, but he has to change his mind after an encounter with Arthur."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing At All

**Author's Note:**

> This is the longest thing I've ever written. I hope you guys like it! The lovely [chrysa ](chrysa.livejournal.com) gave me a helping hand with this one, any remaining mistakes are mine.

The sun shone brightly in Eames’ eyes as he took a deep breath and walked up the steps to the imposing front door of his new house.

_His new house_ , he thought, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. This was going to be his new start. New job, new house, new life.

Adjusting his grip on the box he was holding against his hip, he turned the key in the lock and let the door swing open, hinges squeaking from disuse.

Every surface was covered in a thick layer of grime. The sun filtering in from the window lit up the dust in the air like swirling glitter. Eames slammed the door closed behind him and shut out the sound of the street, surrounding himself in a deep silence. His mother would’ve said it was too quiet but Eames thought it was perfect. Grinning to himself, he went to explore.

By the time Eames brought in everything from the car, the sun had started to set. He opened the living room window to let the summer night air into the room and relaxed into the old brown sofa. As he poked at his microwave dinner, he thought about the possibilities before him. Nobody knew him here; he could be anybody he wanted to be. Maybe he was from old money, maybe he was a successful novelist or maybe he was an eccentric inventor. He could be anybody apart from that lonely, miserable man he was yesterday. 

With that thought, Eames rummaged through a couple of boxes to find some pillows and a duvet, and headed upstairs to bed.

~

Eames startled awake. Staring into the pitch blackness ahead of him, he tried to work out what had woken him. When he’d almost fallen back to sleep, a creaking sound caused his eyes to snap open again. The sound appeared to be coming from outside his bedroom door.

Now, Eames wasn’t one for irrational fear – you wouldn’t find him cowering behind his hands while watching even the scariest horror film. So perhaps it was the unfamiliarity of the house or the unseasonal chill that had se¬ttled in the late night air that made Eames’ heart beat a little faster against his chest when he heard another creak, closer to his door. 

Eames quickly grabbed his mobile from the night stand and held it loftily above his body in bed. The faint light travelled across the floor towards the crack under his bedroom door. Eames breathed heavily for a few moments as he was accompanied by nothing but silence. After a beat or two, he’d almost convinced himself that he had imagined the noises. Then he saw it – a flicker of a shadow in the corner of his eye and his body tensed up. Turning to look properly, he could clearly see the outline of two feet on the other side of the door. 

After a seconds indecision, Eames slowly arose from the bed and crept towards the doorway. As soon as his hand had reached for the door ha¬ndle, the shadows cast under his door vanished only to be replaced by the sound of someone running across the hallway outside. He jumped away from the door, his heart in his throat, as the heavy sound of footsteps got louder and louder. It built up to such an immense sound that Eames began to panic. What the hell is out there? he thought, hands covering his ears. 

And then it was quiet. 

Without hesitation, Eames pulled his bedroom door open a moment before he heard what could only be his front door slam. Someone was here. He rushed down the staircase and grabbed the handle to the front door only to see the chain was pulled across on the inside. As he raced to open the door, he heard the horrible screeching of car wheels outside. When he finally managed to open the door, he ran out onto the pavement and looked on at the empty street. 

His breath rose in front of him in the unnatural cold. 

There was nothing, not even any tyre tracks. None of the cars seemed to have moved. Eames frowned and turned to eye his house. After standing outside for a good while, Eames was convinced that he’d imagined it all. _It had probably just been the heating system_. Before heading inside again – he was beginning to get ridiculously cold in just his thin pyjamas – he spotted a fluffy, ginger cat staring at him from a nearby fence. 

He stepped forward to scratch it behind the ears and it mewled softly, nudging Eames’ hand. 

He chuckled gently. “Not really a good start, is it, Mr. Cat? I think I must be going a little stir-crazy.”

He walked slowly back to his front door, taking care to lock it behind him, and yawned deeply, adrenaline leaving his body. As he walked back up the stairs, he stopped and stared down at his feet. Ahead of him, he could see his own footprints that had disturbed the dust on the steps. Next to them, leading from just outside his bedroom, were another set of footprints in the dust, slightly longer than his own, which showed plainly that somebody had come running down his stairs. 

Eames knew he could take care of himself if he needed to – he just didn’t fancy the idea of needing to. He quickly shut himself in his room and got into bed, biting his lip anxiously as he eyed his bedroom door. Eventually, when nothing else disturbed him, he drifted off to sleep, and if he slept with the bedside light on, that’s neither here nor there. 

~

By the next morning, Eames had got it all worked out. He stared out the window onto the busy morning street, munching on a bowl of cereal with the news droning in the background; Eames had come to the conclusion that it had been a squatter. It was the only logical explanation for what had happened last night, and a logical explanation was the only one Eames was interested in. 

The house had been empty for months. It only makes sense that someone would take advantage of that fact. All Eames had done was catch them by surprise when he’d moved in and the squatter had waited until he was asleep before trying to leave. _Perfectly sensible_ , he thought. Eames nodded his head at the window pane in front of him, as if it had doubted his reasoning. 

On his way to unpack some more boxes in the kitchen, Eames turned up the heating a few notches. 

~

As his work didn’t start for another week, Eames took the opportunity to wander around the local area. He found a few nice cafés and a good looking bar a few blocks down, but he was most impressed by the fantastic book shop he found only a five minutes’ walk from his house. Eames was immediately enthralled and made a mental note to return as often as he could. 

Walking back along the pavement of his street, Eames met a familiar face. 

“Hello again, Mr. Cat. How are you this fine morning?” 

The ginger animal curled its way around Eames’ legs as Eames spied a cheerful looking man walking towards him, hand outstretched.

“You must be the new guy.” Eames took in the man’s earthy tone and faintly chemical smell and smiled back at him.

“Yes. Hi, I’m Jeremy Eames.” Eames shook the man’s hand. “But everybody just calls me Eames.”

“Nice to meet you, Eames. I’m Yusuf, I live just opposite you.” Yusuf pointed vaguely over his shoulder. “I see you’ve already met Hercules here.”

“It’s Hercules is it?” He bent down to scratch the cat’s neck. “That’s a much better name than Mr. Cat.”

As he spoke a small brunette came up behind Yusuf and placed her hand on his arm. Eames smiled at her. 

“Ah, Ariadne, good timing. This is Eames. He’s the one who’s moved into number 43. Eames, this is my girlfriend, Ariadne.”

The two shook hands, and Ariadne grinned at him. “Number 43, huh? How’s that working out for you?”

Eames huffed out a laugh. “You know, it’s funny you should ask. I had a bit of a strange night last night.”

“Oh really? What happened?” Yusuf folded his arms, looking intrigued.

Eames told the two about the noises he’d heard the night before and the footprints on the stairs. “I’m pretty sure it was a squatter that I’d interrupted escaping. Did you guys hear anything?”

Eames looked between their faces. Yusuf looked slightly perplexed, “No, can’t say I heard a thing, sorry.” Ariadne, on the other hand, looked gleeful.

“Maybe it was the ghost!”

Yusuf rolled his eyes and shrugged at Eames. Eames, however, felt a wave unease wash through him.

“Ghost?”

“Yeah. Your house is supposed to be haunted. Yusuf, you tell him. You’re better at it. Somebody - Delouise, was it?” Ariadne turned to her boyfriend.

“Delouise. Or De Silva, something like that. I can’t remember.” Yusuf moved closer to Eames and lent against a fence post. “It was about four years ago now, before we moved here. The guy who used to live in your place was killed. Died suddenly in a car crash, I think. Anyway, the story goes that ever since then, he’s been haunting that old building scaring away everyone who moves in. Poor dead kid thinks he still lives there.” Yusuf raised his eyebrows at Eames.

“But you mustn’t let him scare _you_ away, Eames.” Ariadne shook his arm. “I remember seeing a picture of him once, good looking guy. It’s sad really.” She turned more to Yusuf, “Mary next door said he used to work at that old bookshop down the road.” 

Yusuf hummed in reply and picked up Hercules. “Well, nice to meet you Eames. We best be off. You’ll have to come over to dinner sometime soon.”

Ariadne waved goodbye and Eames smiled and nodded in return. As he walked up the steps to his new house, he wondered about the idea of a handsome, young ghost wandering around the rooms. He shook his head. “Ridiculous,” he muttered to himself. _It was a squatter_. Then, he set to work unpacking the rest of the boxes.

~

Over the next few weeks, Eames settled in nicely. His work was interesting and all the people he’d met at the office had been friendly. He’d gotten to know a few more of his neighbours, but got on best with Yusuf and Ariadne. He’d even been over for tea and was introduced to their two other cats and their goldfish.

It was all going pretty well. 

Except for the fact that every couple of nights, Eames would wake up to the sound of footsteps on the stairs, or a door slamming in the silence, or a phantom car screeching to a halt in the street. It wasn’t this that freaked Eames out, but the fact that he’d still not seen any source for the noises he heard. To keep his sanity, Eames had actively decided to blame it on the ancient heating system. In the wrong state of mind, it was easy to confuse failing, antique pipes with bangs in the night. 

But then there were the other things. Small things. Like how he would close a door only to find it open again a moment later. How lights would turn themselves on when he wasn’t even in the room. How it sometimes sounded like someone was doing the washing up when he was watching TV.

It was kind of like living with an invisible housemate. He almost enjoyed it, really. It felt as though, even when alone, he always had company. 

It was this thought, one quiet evening, that forced Eames to realise that he’d been single for almost two years. He really needed to get himself some company. And so Eames set about finding a new man to go with his new life. 

~

It struck Eames as fate when, almost immediately after making this resolution, he came home to find an incredibly attractive young man simply sitting on the steps in front of his house. Eames stilled on the pavement and took in the picture. The evening light shone down on the man’s face as he played with Hercules. 

“He likes you,” Eames spoke up, voice cracking slightly.

The man looked up and frowned. He had dark eyes that were crinkled in confusion. Eames cocked his head as the young man turned to look over his own shoulder then looked back down at Hercules. Eames hesitated at the unusual behaviour; he couldn’t decide if the man was being rude or simply didn’t realise that Eames was talking to him. 

“Do you live around here, then?” Eames tried again.

Once more the man looked up, staring straight into Eames’ face. He looked no older than twenty-one or twenty-two, but he wore an expression of someone much older, much more world-weary. 

“Are you talking to me?” The man flicked his slightly-too-long hair out of his eyes as he looked up at Eames from the steps. His voice was hardly more than a whisper. 

“Um. Yeah. I’m Eames. I live...” He nodded at the building behind him. 

The man turned to look at the house as Hercules ran off. “I know. I mean... I’ve seen you. Er.” He stood up awkwardly and ran a hand through his hair. “I live nearby. I’m Arthur – Arthur Devine.”

As the two men shook hands, Eames felt an icy chill run up his arm and he shivered. Arthur let go of his hand as if he’d been burned. 

“So, it’s a nice house you have here. Are you settling in alright?” Arthur was swinging his arms together nervously and looking rather shy. Eames couldn’t help but melt a little at the sight. 

“It’s great, apart from the dodgy heating. Listen, I’ve gotten to know most of the street, it’d be a shame to miss you– do you want to come in for a drink?”

The corners of Arthur’s mouth turned up and Eames could see the beginning of a love affair with that smile forming. “That sounds brilliant.”

Eames grinned. “Great. Come on in, I’ll give you the grand tour.”

~

His afternoon with Arthur was lovely. Eames caught glimpses of a wicked humour and a quick wit throughout the afternoon that intrigued and captivated him. 

They’d arranged to meet up again later in the week, although Arthur had insisted that it be at Eames’ house again. Eames was excited about it and almost couldn’t believe his luck. It was perhaps for this reason that he did not notice when he slept through the entire night, without a footstep or a door slam to be heard. 

~

Eames was nervous. _Should he be this nervous?_ His eyes flickered to the clock on the wall to see the hands pointing at seven-twenty five. Arthur would be here in five minutes. As he dashed downstairs, Eames quickly checked his reflection and scowled at his misbehaving hair. 

Doing his best to wait casually in the kitchen, Eames gave the radiator one last kick in an attempt to bring some heat into the house. He heard a quite cough from behind him.

“Arthur! I didn’t hear you come in.”

Arthur smiled shyly, and Eames immediately relaxed.

“Sorry. The door was open, so I let myself in.” Arthur gestured to the bottle in his hand. “I brought this. I don’t know if it’s any good.” 

Eames had a look. “We shall soon find out.” He squinted at Arthur for a moment. “Are you even old enough to drink alcohol in this ridiculous country?”

Arthur smirked. “’Ridiculous country’? I’m plenty old enough, thanks for the concern.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Perhaps it was the alcohol, although Eames was hoping it had more to do with the company, but Arthur was a lot more relaxed than the last time they met. His eyes twinkled as he spoke at length, hands enthusiastically gesticulating away.

Eames also noticed, with some pleasure, that Arthur’s eyes were dropping down to stare at Eames’ lips with increasing regularity. When he caught Arthur staring again, Arthur blushed and rubbed his ear. “Sorry. I’m not boring you, am I? It’s just been a while since I’ve hand someone to really talk to.”

“God, no. You’re not boring at all. I like listening to you.” _Ok, that was a little cheesy_ Eames thought to himself, inwardly cringing. Luckily Arthur was laughing. 

“Alright. What about you? What brought you here?”

Eames sighed. “I suppose , really. Straight out of school I started work in Sales. It was cut throat, you know? I just got sick of it. None of it was what I really wanted to be doing. Then I got a position here with a local art gallery, and here I am. I really love it.” Eames laughed, “It’s not as glamorous, but I enjoy it much more.”

“Good for you. There’s no point working nine-to-five on something you hate.” Arthur looked out of the window at the new night sky. “I used to love my job. I worked in the bookstore up the block.”

Eames raised his eyebrows. “Get out of town! I love that place. Why’d you leave?”

Arthur shrugged at him.

Something stirred in the back of Eames’ memory. “Did you know that guy that died?”

Arthur baulked. “Oh shit. Sorry, that was out of line. It was just – he used to live here, that’s all. Just ignore me,” Eames flapped. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s–” Arthur turned sharply at the sound of the doorbell.

“Oh. That’s probably just Yusuf, I lent him a DVD on Monday.” Eames made to stand up.

“I have to go.” Arthur shot up and walked through to the back door.

“What? Why? He won’t bite.” Eames was completely confused. 

“Sorry. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, Arthur disappeared out of sight. By the time Eames got to the window, Arthur must have already reached the end of his garden. 

The doorbell rang again. 

“It’s open, Yusuf!” 

As he heard Yusuf open the door, Eames dropped back into his chair in the kitchen and slumped his head to the table. _Good job, Eames, real nice_.

~

Despite Eames’ amazing lack of tact, Arthur continued to talk to him, although neither of them mentioned what happened again. It was silly, but Eames felt lighter inside every time he saw Arthur. The more Eames saw of him, the more he thought that _this could be it_. Maybe Arthur was thinking the same? Lord knows he was looking less bone-tired than when Eames found him on the doorstep. All of these thoughts were somewhat insane, however, when Eames considered the fact that he hadn’t ever seen Arthur’s house, his friends or even just seen him outside Eames’ own house. 

So Eames was going to do something about it. 

As Arthur was getting ready to leave, after another night in, Eames grabbed him and pulled him into a kiss. Arthur immediately wrapped his arms around Eames and opened his mouth to Eames’ ministrations. Softly and slowly, Eames licked his way into Arthur’s mouth, hand tangled in Arthur’s hair. Eames moaned when Arthur pulled away. 

Arthur was biting his reddened lower lip, a smile dancing in his eyes. Even so, Eames couldn’t help but shiver against the cold he suddenly felt. He pulled Arthur close again. 

“Not bad, Mr. Eames,” Arthur spoke quietly, close to Eames’ face. 

“I want to take you, Mr. Devine, on a date.” 

Arthur replied playfully, “I believe we’ve already been on one of those, or two, or three. I might even start nagging you about the washing up soon, if we carry on like this.”

Eames smiled and kissed the delicate skin under Arthur’s ear. “No. I mean a real date.” He emphasised the word real by squeezing Arthur tighter. “I want to take you out somewhere, show you off.” 

Arthur took a step away, looking dubious. “We don’t need to go anywhere. Aren’t you happy here?”

“Of course I’m happy here, darling.” Eames closed the gap between them. “I just think it would be nice. You can choose where we go.” He looked hopefully towards Arthur.

Arthur spoke slowly, “I don’t know, I don’t think I c–”

“Come on, Arthur, for me?” Eames whined. 

Arthur sighed and leaned closer to Eames’ chest. “I suppose we can have a go,” Arthur mumbled into Eames’ shirt. 

~

The next evening, Eames quickly jumped up the steps towards the square they had arranged to meet at and straightened his tie in the reflection of a piece of modern art that had been dropped in the centre. 

His eyes scanned the crowd from a slim, dark haired man. 

Ten minutes later Eames’ leg jittered nervously as he checked his watch. _He’s not that late yet_ , Eames reassured himself. 

Ten minutes after that, Eames picked up his mobile and scrolled down to Arthur’s name. Rubbing his face anxiously, Eames lifted the phone to his ear. ‘You’ve reached Arthur Devine. Leave a message and I’ll call you back’. Eames scratched his eyebrow. “Hi Arthur, it’s me. Um. Eames. I’m just waiting for you. You didn’t get lost? Give me a call. Um. Bye.” 

_Maybe he’s just been held up, or is stuck in traffic._

One hour after Arthur was supposed to meet Eames, Eames was still waiting in the cold. He was staring at his mobile with something akin to hatred. Long since given up on standing, he was sat on the cold hard ground, leaning against the statue in the middle of the square. He couldn’t feel his toes. 

_This is stupid_. Eames stood up sharply and made a beeline for home, angrily kicking an innocent bus stop sign on the way. How could this happen? How could he have let himself fall for this again? This was supposed to be a new Eames for Christ’s sake.

Arthur had made a fool of him. 

Hurt and angry at Arthur, at himself for allowing himself to actually care about Arthur, Eames scowled at the ground beneath his feet. Unaware of where his feet were taking him, too caught up in his own mind and the heated thoughts flying around inside his head, Eames stopped short when he found himself in front of the old bookshop Arthur had used to work at. 

After glaring heatedly at the shop door for a moment, Eames found his thoughts directed towards the young man that used to live in his house, the one that had died. I wonder what he was like, Eames mused. He considered the strange noises he used to hear at night and entertained the idea, for a moment, that it really was the ghost of this man. 

Eames was interrupted from his musings when a large group of people pushed past him on the pavement. 

“Sorry, dude,” one of them murmured. 

Eames shrugged as they walked off and he remembered how Arthur had discarded him. _What kind of person does that?_ Well, at least Eames had found out the truth about Arthur before he became even more invested and even more hurt. 

Eames trudged along the street up to his house. As he rummaged in his pocket for his key he caught sight of Arthur sitting on his steps with Hercules, almost an exact shadow of the day they first met. Arthur stood up and Hercules ran off, after flicking his tail against Eames’ leg.

Eames tried to shove past him.

“Eames, wait. I really tried. I–”

Anger swelled in Eames’ chest. “Oh. That’s nice of you,” Eames spat out, “you just left me waiting on my own for _hours_ , but it’s alright, because you tried.”

Arthur looked like he had tears in his eyes. If Eames hadn’t had so long to build up his rage he might have crumbled upon seeing that face, but as it was it just made Eames angrier. 

“Just save it, Arthur.”

Eames pushed him a side and opened his front door.

“Eames, please–” 

Eames slammed the door in Arthur’s face. 

~

Later that evening, Eames was watching late night telly and binging on pot noodle. 

Then, he heard it. 

The footsteps on the stairs, they’d come back. As they got louder and louder behind him, Eames stood up and ran to the hallway, arriving just after the slamming of a door echoed through the entire house. 

Running to the kitchen, Eames heard the familiar screech of tyres. When he stared out the window, he saw nothing. 

His shoulders sagged as he turned to go back to the living room when suddenly he heard something new. It made the hairs on his arms stand on end. 

Screaming. 

It was the sound of a man screaming outside. It was heart-wrenching. It carried on until the sound filled Eames up, reverberating around his head, inside his whole body. He couldn’t take it. He clamped his hands over his ears to block the sound out, but it only seemed to get louder and louder. Eames scrunched his eyes up, willing it to stop. 

And then it did. The silence left in its wake ringing in Eames ears. 

Eames panted heavily where he found himself on the kitchen floor. _Jesus_. Eames forced down the panic that was rising in his mind. _It’s just stress making me hear things, that’s all._ Standing on shaky legs, he guided himself back to the living room to fall asleep to the sound of the television filling the house. 

~

As the next morning arrived, Eames whiled away the quite hours reading, watching TV, catching up on work, cleaning, reorganising and even watering his plants. Nothing took his mind off Arthur. Of course, that may be largely due to the fact that Arthur had been waiting outside his front door since ridiculous o’clock that morning. 

The sight was beginning to wear Eames down. Plus, Hercules had been snarling at him all morning, Arthur had well and truly won that animal over.

Eames sighed and pulled the catch on the door to reveal an exhausted looking Arthur leaning against his railings. 

Arthur jumped up quickly to face him. 

“Make it quick. I didn’t sleep well last night,” Eames drawled, leaving the door open behind him as he walked into the living room. He heard Arthur close the door and follow him through. 

Arthur stood awkwardly in the small room. “Look, Eames, I know you must hate me right now, with good reason. I just.” Arthur looked around the room before focusing on Eames’ face. “I panicked.”

“Yes, but that’s what I don’t get. What did you panic about?” Eames stared questionably. 

Arthur ran a hand through his hair and shrugged uncertainly. “Everything. This all happened so quickly Eames, you and I.” Arthur sat on the sofa, Eames followed him down. “I really tried to meet you, I honestly really wanted to. You must know – I love spending time with you.”

Eames turned away from Arthur’s gaze. Arthur carried on talking quietly, “I guess I was scared to let myself care about you. The more I let you mean to me, the more I risk hurting. It’s pathetic, I know.”

Arthur hung his head in his hands. Eames felt a pang of guilt for giving the man such a hard time; it wasn’t as if he’d left him standing at the altar. 

“But then,” Arthur started again, “I don’t want to lose you. Whatever we’ve got going here, it’s the best thing that’s happened to me in a long while. I’m so tired of being alone, Eames.” Arthur looked up at him. “I never feel alone when I’m with you.”

Eames paused and licked his lips, ready to speak. “You know none of that makes sense. You don’t want to be alone, but you don’t want to date me either? You know something, Arthur? I care about you, so much. More than I should, really. That terrifies me. I mean it literally scares the hell out of me, but I’m not gonna let it stop me. I reckon we could be worth it, you and I. You just have to let go of your fear.” 

Eames had moved closer to Arthur on the sofa and Arthur was staring at him, an unreadable expression across his features. 

“It’s not always that easy though, is it?” Arthur slid closer, so that their arms were touching. “Can I tell you a story?”

Eames nodded and Arthur took a deep breath.

“A few years ago there was a family that lived a couple doors down, at number 47. The Cobbs. They took care of me really, I was so young, they pretty much adopted me.” Arthur smiled at the memory.

“Dom was an Architect and Mal lectured at the local college. They had brilliant minds, the both of them. 

They had two kids as well, Philippa and James. Pippa and Jamie. I looked after them a lot – they used to call me Uncle Arthur. I loved those kids and I loved Dom and Mal. They were like my family here. 

Dom and Mal were... It’s hard to explain, if you haven’t seen it. They were completely and utterly devoted to each other. I’ve never seen two people love deeper, or so unconditionally. It’s not something that everyone comes across, I don’t think, not a love like that.”

Eames cast his eyes over Arthur’s sad expression, he really was beautiful.

“It destroyed them in the end.”

“What happened to them, love?” Eames asked, voice rough.

Arthur sighed and looked out of the window onto the street. “One day, about a month or so after Christmas, I was upstairs – in my house – and was looking out the window. I saw a car coming up the street. It was coming pretty fast so I took a closer look. They man driving was asleep. Well, I thought he was asleep at the time.”

Arthur was wringing his hands together in his lap. 

“I ran downstairs as fast as I could, out onto the street.” Arthur looked up from where he’d been staring at Eames’ knee to his face. “I wanted to stop him, wake him up before he caused any damage. 

Then, I got out onto the sidewalk and saw Mal. She was waving goodbye to Dom and the kids, not looking where she was going.”

After this, Arthur’s voice became strangely monotonous, as though he were detaching himself from the events in the story. 

“I ran to get her out of the way, but it didn’t work. She–” Arthur rubbed a hand over his face. “She died almost instantly.”

Arthur ducked his head heavily and Eames wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Arthur. You did all you could. More than most people would’ve done.”

Arthur sagged against him. “Yeah. I know. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. The guy driving wasn’t even asleep, he’d had a heart attack, so you couldn’t blame him for anything.”

“Jesus.” Eames murmured into Arthur’s hair.

“The thing I remember the most was Dom’s screaming. He was screaming so loud, it was all I could hear, over and over again. He died that day too, I think. I mean he worked hard for the kids, but he was never the same otherwise.”

Arthur moved away from Eames again, to sit against the back of the sofa. 

“He moved away with the kids in the end. You have to understand, Eames, Mal was everything to him, absolutely everything. He put all that he was into her, into the life they had together. If it wasn’t for Philippa and James, he would be nothing at all.”

Arthur placed a hand delicately on Eames’ knee before speaking in a low voice, “That’s why I’m scared to be with you, Eames. The same thing will happen to us. I know that anything we have together will end in ruin. We’ll both end up with broken hearts one way or another, because I could love you like that. I _want_ to love you like that, Eames. I can feel it inside me. I would love you and never bear to let you go.”

Eames looked at Arthur and understood. He pressed closer to the other man, tucking a strand of lost hair behind his ear. He spoke softly, “I know Arthur. I get it, I really do. I just think that we’re worth it. That you’re worth it. I can’t spend my life not doing the things I want for fear that it’ll hurt when it stops.”

Eames took Arthur’s hand in his own and Arthur looked up at him through long lashes. 

“I know that if I could love you, even for only one day, it would be worth a lifetime of missing you.”

Arthur nodded. It was such a small action that somebody else might have missed it, but for Eames that small nod was the sweetest victory. 

Eames pulled at Arthur’s jumper and Arthur leaned close to him, his fingers floating over Eames’ jaw. Eames pushed forward a faction of an inch and pressed their lips together. 

Arthur brought his hands up to cup Eames’ face as they kissed fiercely. Arthur’s tongue slid across Eames’ lip and Eames parted them immediately in response. 

Arthur tasted like nothing Eames’ knew, something uniquely _Arthur_ and he was quickly growing to love it. Moaning deeply into Arthur’s mouth, Eames skimmed his hand down to Arthur’s thighs, pulling him into his lap. Arthur gasped coolly over Eames’ lips. 

Arthur pulled back then, smiling and pressing his forehead lightly to Eames’ own. 

Eames tapped the back of Arthur’s leg. “Come on. Come upstairs with me, yeah?” He grinned at Arthur, eyes twinkling. 

“Since you asked so nicely.”Arthur mocked, sliding off Eames’ lap and pulling him up.

Eames then did the mature thing and stuck his tongue out at Arthur. It made Arthur laugh and Eames’ heart skipped a beat. 

He took Arthur’s hand a lead him slowly up the stairs. 

Placing feather light kisses all over Arthur’s face and neck, Eames walked them back to the end of the bed. 

Arthur pulled the hem of Eames’ shirt out of this belt and went to lift it over his head. Eames looked on hungrily as Arthur ran his hands over Eames’ chest. 

Eames shivered unexpectedly. “Christ on a bike, this house is like a fucking igloo. Aren’t you cold?”

Arthur huffed out a laugh. “No, I’m not cold. Would you like me to help you warm up?” Arthur’s hands travelled down to squeeze Eames’ backside. 

Eames’ gave a low, chesty laugh. “Yes please.” He took hold of Arthur and lowered him onto the bed, crawling up to straddle his thighs. 

Eames’ slowly divested Arthur of his many layers until the other man was completely naked underneath him. Arthur let out a nervous breath and pulled at Eames’ belt. 

“Come on. You’ll need to take your clothes off too, you know.”

Between the two of them, Eames got out of his trousers in a flash. He leaned back in over Arthur and smiled nervously down. They kissed slowly and Eames could feel Arthur relax into his touch. 

Eames fumbled in his side drawer until he pulled out a small bottle of lube and a condom, never breaking away from Arthur. When he set the objects on the dresser Arthur tilted his head up to take a look, then turned his gaze to Eames. 

“You alright?” Eames asked quietly. 

Arthur nodded, “Yeah. I’m doing great.” Then Arthur smiled deeply, dimples and all, and Eames couldn’t hold back any longer. 

He squirted some lube into his palm and slid two fingers inside Arthur, groaning as the other man opened up so easily for him. Arthur moaned deeply. 

Once he’d made sure Arthur was completely ready for him, he pulled his hand out from between Arthur’s legs and rolled on the condom. 

“Arthur, spread you legs for me, darling.” Arthur complied and Eames lined himself up. “You ready?”

Arthur groaned, “Yeah, I’m ready, do it.” 

Eames pushed forward slowly into the tight, pulsing heat. Once he was fully sheathed inside of Arthur, he paused, one hand on Arthur’s thigh, another gripping the headboard. He lent down for a kiss and Arthur pushed up to meet him, arms tightening over Eames’ back. 

They found a rhythm that had Arthur gasping into Eames’ mouth, Eames’ lost in the gorgeous sounds he was making. 

“Oh god, Arthur.” Eames moaned. 

“Eames.” Arthur breathed, his hand reach down to touch himself, but Eames got there first. After only a few strokes Arthur’s breath hitched. 

Eames gazed at Arthur’s face in awe as he came, pulsing into Eames’ hand and tightening around him. He was perfect. Arthur let out a low moan as Eames continued to thrust into him, harder and faster as Eames’ own orgasm approached. 

Arthur brought a hand up to cup Eames’ face and shoved himself up on an elbow to engulf Eames in a deep kiss. Eames came as Arthur kissed him, groaning hotly into his mouth. Eames jerked weekly before pulling out of Arthur completely, pulling off the condom and throwing it in the bin. 

He collapsed on top of Arthur and pulled the covers up over the both of them. Arthur shifted so that he could hold Eames in his arms. 

With Arthur stoking his hair and kissing his forehead so lightly, Eames found himself drifting off to sleep. Before he fell asleep completely he could have sworn he heard Arthur whisper the words ‘I love you’ into his ear. But then that could’ve been a dream.

~

Eames opened his eyes hours later to a dark room. He could feel Arthur at his side, limp with sleep. Eames had never seen the other man sleep before. He looked incredibly peaceful. Eames traced his finger softly down Arthur’s nose. Arthur shifted slightly in his sleep and Eames chuckled lightly at the sight. 

A few seconds later Eames turned his head sharply to the bedroom window. The loud car screeching from outside was back. Next to him Arthur woke up with a start, sitting up roughly. He had a look of sheer terror on his face that caused Eames to panic and run a hand over the back of Arthur’s head. 

“Arthur, sweetheart, are you alright? Did you hear the car too?”

The terror vanished from Arthur’s face as he focused back on Eames. 

“Oh. What? No. No, I’m fine. What did you hear? I’m going to go and make us some dinner, I’m starving, aren’t you hungry?”

With that Arthur pulled his trousers on and practically ran from the room, leaving Eames staring confusedly in his wake. 

~

Eames was in a fantastic mood as he sauntered down the street. The sun was shining, the birds were singing and he could finally call Arthur his boyfriend. Arthur practically lived with Eames nowadays and Eames wasn’t going to pretend he was anything but thrilled by this turn of events.

As he turned a corner he spotted Yusuf across the street. The poor man was attempting to drag several huge bags, so Eames ran over to help him out. 

“Yusuf! Need a hand, mate?”

Yusuf smiled brightly and held out a bag. “Couldn’t hurt. Thanks.”

They began to walk up the pavement. 

“So, seen anything thing of that ghost yet?” Yusuf twinkled at him. “Ariadne reckons he must like you, letting you stay in his house so long.”

Eames smiled. “Do you actually believe all that stuff?”

To his credit, Yusuf seemed to contemplate the question quite seriously. “No. Not really. I think it’s just such a tragic story that people like to make sure it’s remembered, that the poor kid isn’t forgotten. I suppose creating a myth about a ghost makes it more poignant instead of pointless.”

Eames frowned. “Forgotten? What exactly happened? I remember you said something about a car accident.”

Yusuf and Eames both pushed together to allow a woman with a pram past on the pavement before Yusuf began to talk again. “Ah. It’s a good story, I’ll give you that. It goes that the young man that lived in your house – he must have been in his early twenties – was close to another family in the street. Anyway, one day some random man comes roaring down the road, twenty miles an hour over the speed limit. It turns out that this dude had suffered a stroke or something like that and was completely unconscious. Anyway, this car’s coming hell for leather down the road and the woman from the family your ghost was friends with is standing in the street, staring into space or something. So, she doesn’t see the car at all, right. Just when the car’s about to hit her, you’re ghost comes jumping into the road to push her out of the way.”

Yusuf paused in the story to give Eames a significant look and stopped his walking. 

“This is the tragic part though. He tries to save her, this kid, and it doesn’t work. She still dies. He doesn’t get her out of the way in time. All he manages to do is put himself in the path of the oncoming car as well. They both end up dead.”

Yusuf looked up at him, waiting for Eames to be impressed. All he could manage was a weak grimace. 

His heart was beating harshly in his chest. This was the exact story Arthur had told him the other day. A horrible voice in Eames’ head was pointing out that if these two stories were, in fact, the same, then that would make Arthur the ghost. 

But that was absurd. Arthur wasn’t a ghost. Eames could see him, could touch him. He was real. 

_Anyway, ghosts don’t exist_ Eames berated himself quickly. He’d just ask Arthur about it later. It’s probably just a coincidence. 

Eames carried on walking and Yusuf followed him.

“You alright, Eames?” Yusuf spoke up a few moments later.

“Hmm? Oh. Yes, quite alright, thanks. Say, Yusuf, you don’t happen to know the name of the woman who died do you?” Eames asked slowly, hoping against hope Yusuf didn’t know. 

“Yes, actually, it was her position I filled at the University. Cobb, Mal Cobb.”

~

Arthur laughed at him and Eames knew he would never get tired of that sound.

“You’re so weird, Eames. You know that, right?” Arthur joked, looking over his shoulder.

“It’s all part of my irresistible charm.” Eames smiled, burying his nose against the back of Arthur’s neck. “Besides, you’re stuck with me now. I’ve got my claws into you.” Eames squeezed him tightly. 

Arthur turned in his arms and smiled at him. As Eames began to grin in response he saw Arthur’s expression falter. 

“You alright, love?”

Arthur gazed at him a while longer. Eames began to feel rather nervous. 

When Arthur dropped his gaze and walked away from Eames’ embrace, he had to work hard to contain his panic. 

“Arthur.”

Arthur turned to him. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what, darling?” Eames croaked, his mouth dry.

Arthur scrunched his face up and folded his arms around himself. “For doing this to you again. You don’t deserve it.”

Taking a step forward, Eames tried to speak calmly. “What exactly are you doing to me now?”

“I have to leave, Eames. I have to go. What we have here,” he gestured between the two of them, “it’s a fantasy. It can’t last.” Arthur let out something like a sob. “I’m not doing anything with my life, Eames. This is it for me. This is my life and it’s not ever going to change.”

Eames walked towards him but Arthur turned away. “Arthur. This is all I want. I just want you, that’s it. This is what I came here for, to be happy.”

“No. Eames, come on. There’s so much more that you could do. Travel. Start a family. Anything. I can’t do that stuff.” 

“Why can’t you do that? Of course you can, we can do it together.”

Arthur sighed and shook his head. 

“No.” Eames spoke sharply, suddenly angry. “You don’t get to do this to me. I don’t buy it for one minute, Arthur. Not for one minute. ‘You mean too much to me, that’s why I have to leave’? Bullshit.” Eames felt his eyes start to sting. “This is just you being scared again, isn’t it? You can’t run away from this, Arthur. I love you.”

Arthur had tears swimming in his eyes. “I’m sorry Eames. I am truly sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. This is for the best, I promise.”

Eames felt the heat in his eyes as he blinked tears out of his eyes. “Why are you doing this to me?”

Arthur moved forward quickly and held Eames tight. “I’m sorry.” His voiced cracked as he spoke. Arthur took Eames’ face in his hands and kissed him softly. “You’ll be ok, Eames. I have to go.”

And Arthur left. Just like that. Eames heard the front door slam behind him. He stood in the cold kitchen, miserable and alone.

The house was quiet as the grave.

~

After wandering aimlessly about in his tracksuit bottoms for hours and not getting any response from Arthur’s mobile, Eames gave up and went to bed. He closed his eyes to dreams of Arthur. 

Hours later Eames was woken up to the sound of someone running full pelt down his stairs. Eames pulled off his duvet and ran to the window. 

He heard the front door slam. 

He heard the car tyres screech.

He heard the blood curdling screams. 

But he didn’t see a thing. _Not one bloody thing_.

And then he heard crying. It was coming from downstairs. Legging it to the dark hallway, Eames checked all the rooms in his house. Every time Eames entered the room the crying seemed to be coming from, it would shift to another part of the house. It was infuriating. 

Eventually it stopped and Eames sat down, shattered, on the steps. His thoughts went back to the story Yusuf had told him that morning. He’d never got to tell Arthur about it. 

He’d have to try and get to the bottom of these noises himself.

By the morning Eames knew he needed to get out of this house before he went insane. He grabbed his coat and walked out the door, bending down to scratch Hercules behind the ear when he reached the gate. 

“You don’t know where Arthur’s gone, do you?” 

Hercules purred back at him.

“No. I don’t suppose you’d tell me anyway. He’s got you well and truly on side.”

Eames thought about all the times he’d seen Arthur play with the cat.

“There you go. Arthur can’t be the ghost. Cat’s don’t make friends with the dead do they?” 

Hercules jumped on to the fence and stalked off. _Well, it wasn’t a definite no._

With a new plan in his head, Eames turned his collar up to the new cool breeze. 

~

It took him a while to find the right section in the local library, never having been in the building before, but as soon as Eames found himself a computer he was hitting up Google. 

“Alright.” He murmured under his breath.

He carefully typed ‘Arthur Devine Mal Cobb’ into the search field and hit enter. 

After passing over a few unlikely looking business sites Eames clicked through to an archived news article from the local paper with the headline ‘Two Die in Tragic Rescue Attempt’.

The page loaded and Eames gasped, “Holy shit,” staring at the small screen. Right at the top of the page was a picture captioned ‘Arthur Devine, 21, was killed while trying to rescue neighbour, Mal Cobb’. 

It was Arthur. _His Arthur_. He looked exactly the same, too long hair and shy dimpled smile. 

Eames’ heart was beating hard and fast in his chest. He skimmed through the article below, dated almost exactly four years ago. ‘The driver, 62 year old Michael Dachary, suffered a heart attack.’ ‘... Mal Cobb, leaving behind a husband and two young children.’ ‘Mr Devine’s employer at Morgan’s Book Emporium...’ 

It all fit. Everything Arthur and Yusuf had told him. 

It was too much. 

Arthur was dead. 

Eames leaned back in his chair and stared around the room, trying to make sense of it all. Arthur was his ghost. Is that why Arthur never left Eames’ house, because he couldn’t? All of a sudden all that Arthur had said to him last night made sense. Arthur _knew_ he was dead. 

Eames brushed a hand down his face and let out a slightly hysterical giggle. 

He had to get back to the house. He needed to see Arthur again, to tell him what he knew. To tell him that it was alright. 

He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and ran to the door. Pushing past people coming the other way he shoved his way into the library foyer. He twitched nervously waiting for the revolving doors before jumping into the gap. Once he was in the fresh air he ran to the top of the steps and tried to get through the crowd of people. 

“Excuse me.” He pleaded to the crowd, “I need to get by.”

Exasperated, he shoved through the swell of people, surrounded on either side. Then, suddenly, he lost his footing on the slippery steps. Dropping forward into empty space, Eames tensed against the inevitable impact. 

He felt the hard force of the pavement on the back of his head and body. _I can’t be hurt_ he thought dully, _I have to find Arthur._ He could feel his mind blurring. 

As the people around him gasped and murmured, he thought he heard someone shout to call 911. _I’m fine_ , he tried to say, but couldn’t quite get the words out. 

Then he shut his eyes and couldn’t hear anyone. 

~

Eames blinked his eyes open to a bright white light. He lifted his hand to shield his eyes and the world began to come back into focus.

He was lying on the steps up to the library, surrounded by people. _I’m okay_. He’d never been so relieved. He didn’t even feel bruised. 

Sitting up, he patted himself down. After determining he had no serious injury he went to stand.

“It’s alright. Thanks for the concern. Just a bit of concussion, I think. I’ll be fine.” 

Nobody took any notice of him. 

He waved his hands vaguely at the horde. “Honestly. I’m fine. You needn’t fuss – I just have to go and find my boyfriend.”

The crowd continued to ignore him. _To hell with this_ he thought and worked his way through the throng, taking care to dodge people and keep his footing this time. 

He walked towards his house – Arthur’s house – his brain supplied, occasionally breaking into a light run in his haste. As he turned the corner on to his street, he spotted Yusuf and Ariadne walking towards him. He gave the two of them a small wave and a smile when they came closer. 

They blanked him. 

Eames was perplexed. He’d never thought Ariadne or Yusuf to be that rude. 

“Hey, guys.” This time Ariadne was looking straight at him. _For pity’s sake._ They walked right past him, not even attempting to make room for him. Eames had to hurriedly back into the road to get out of their way.

He stared at the backs. 

“Yusuf! Yusuf, mate. Ariadne.” He shouted. “What’s going on?”

Left standing in the middle of the pavement, being completely ignored, Eames stared incredulously at the couple. _Maybe it’s some kind of prank_ , he mused. 

He grumbled on up the road, scowling at those he passed. _Not that they were taking any notice_ , he thought, cruelly. 

Eames walked into the sun-warmed house and his mood was immediately lifted sky high when he saw Arthur padding across the hallway, stretching his arms above his head. Then Arthur caught his eye and froze mid-yawn. 

“Eames? What happened to you?” As Arthur asked the question his face fell into an expression of... was it pity? Eames was having a hard time deciphering. 

“Knew you couldn’t stay away, sweetheart.” Arthur continued to look at him with that expression. “I’m fine, Arthur. Honestly. I took a little tumble on the library steps, but there’s no lasting damage, I promise you.”

Arthur’s eyes searched his face. “No, Eames–”

“Arthur, it’s alright.” He grinned and walked up close to the other man, running a hand up and down his arms. “I know.”

Arthur cocked his head. “You know? And you’re alright with it?”

Eames considered it for a moment. Sure, he’d been shocked, but the pure joy he felt at seeing Arthur again, he could hardly contain himself. He couldn’t resist it any longer; he kissed Arthur deeply, letting the warmth of Arthur’s mouth spread through his body. 

Eames pulled off and Arthur followed him for a moment. 

“I’m more than alright with it.” He ran his hand through Arthur’s hair. “So you’re a ghost. So what? I can still be with you, I can still touch you. It’s still the same. We can be together.”

Arthur took a step back, his smile melting into a frown. 

“No. No Eames, that’s not it.”

“What? You’re not dead? I read the new report, Arthur. You, Mal, the guy who had the heart attack. It was all there, they even had your picture.” Eames gazed wearily at Arthur.

“Eames.” Arthur took a hold of his hands. “You’re right, I died, but – Eames, so did you.”

Eames laughed. “I don’t think so, Arthur. I think I’d know if I were dead.”

Arthur placed a hand on his chest, “Eames, trust me, I know another ghost when I see one. Think about it. Try to remember. You said you fell down some steps. The fall killed you, Eames.”

Eames frowned at Arthur. Then, as if Arthur’s words had unlocked a whole new world of thought, he looked back on the events of the past hour and he knew. 

He had died. 

That’s why he hadn’t felt any pain. That’s why the crowd had ignored him. That’s why Yusuf and Ariadne had looked through him. He was a ghost. He felt dizzy. 

“I think I need to sit down for a moment, darling.”

Arthur guided him towards the living room and sat him down on the sofa. Eames was holding on to Arthur like the other man was the only thing keeping Eames from floating off. _Maybe he was_ Eames thought worriedly. Thankfully Arthur seemed to understand Eames’ need for human contact, and pulled Eames close against him where he sat.

“I’m dead. Okay. That’s okay. We’re both dead. That’s perfectly fine.” His voice wavered as took a turn to the hysterical. 

Arthur kissed the top of his head lightly. “Yeah. It’s alright to be scared, Eames, or whatever. It’s a lot to take in.”

“What’s my Mum going to do? I haven’t seen her in ages. I said I’d bring you over to London for a visit.” He turned to Arthur, “I’m not going to see her again, am I?”

Arthur was a warm presence at his side. “I don’t know. Probably not, Eames. I’m so sorry.” He truly looked sorry as well. 

“But I could see you. Why could I see you if nobody can see me?” Eames asked, confused. 

Arthur sighed. “I don’t know how it all works really. I’ve been here since the accident and nobody could see me. You couldn’t see me, to begin with.”

Eames raised his eyebrows. “Really? You were here the whole time?”

“Yeah. With everyone who lived here before, I deliberately tried to scare them away. It was a bit harsh, but I liked having the place to myself. I mean, it’s my house. But when you arrived,” Eames felt Arthur shrug against him, “I suppose I liked you. So I just sort of began to live around you. I slept on the sofa, that kind of thing.”

Arthur sat further forward and turned towards him. “Then you said hi to me, when I was playing with Hercules outside. Nobody had ever spoken to me before. I didn’t really know what to do. If I’d have told you I was a ghost you would’ve thought I was insane, so I just pretended.”

Arthur looked at him nervously. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

Oh Arthur, “No. How could I be mad at you? It’s the most ridiculous situation in the world. Ghosts, Jesus. I wouldn’t have done any different.”

“That’s why I couldn’t meet you that time,” Arthur continued. It seemed to Eames he was taking the opportunity to get a load of his chest. “I really wanted to see you and I tried, but I physically couldn’t do it. Every time I tried to walk down the road, it was like this cord pulling me back. I don’t know why, but I’m stuck here, in this house, in this street.”

“Because this is where you died?” Eames asked softly.

“I’d always thought so, but you didn’t die here. I suppose you lived here.” Arthur shrugged and leaned against Eames’ shoulder. “I don’t understand any of it, I’ve never even met another ghost before, to explain it to me.”

Eames paused before he asked, “Didn’t Mal become a ghost?”

Arthur was quite for a time. “No,” he spoke, not looking at Eames, “and I never saw her if she did. It’s just been me all this time.”

Eames reached out to stroke Arthur’s hair. “Oh, sweetheart, it must have been tough.”

Arthur murmured. “I was so glad when you came along. I’d been so scared of being on my own forever.” He laughed, “Just me and Hercules for all of eternity.” The thought made Eames shudder slightly. “And then I realised it was all just a fantasy. I couldn’t have met your friends, or your family. Sooner or later you would’ve wanted to see my house, would’ve wondered what I did for living, would’ve wanted me to go further than the end of the street!” Arthur spoke harshly.

“Hey, don’t get worked up about Arthur, it’s alright now.”

Arthur didn’t calm down. “It’s not alright, Eames. I love you more than I ever loved anybody when I was alive. I really didn’t want to leave you yesterday, but I had to. I wanted you to be happy and live a proper life, like you couldn’t do with me.” Tears were streaming down Arthur’s face.

“Arthur, don’t be upset. It’s ok. I’m here now, we can be together.”

“But you’re dead! Eames, I didn’t want you to die!” Arthur sobbed. The other man buried his face into Eames’ shoulder, “I didn’t want you to die, Eames. I wanted you to be happy.”

They stayed like that for a while, Eames holding Arthur close as he cried. 

When Arthur’s tears dried up Eames wiped his face and kissed him chastely. 

“I know that this isn’t the ideal scenario, Arthur. I would rather I was alive, too. I wish that you were still alive, but this is how it is. At least we’re together, right? We can make the most of it.”

Arthur nodded and smiled weakly. 

Eames heard a door slam outside, from the house opposite. “Hey, Arthur?”

“Yeah?” He sniffed. 

“Was that you haunting me, then, all that noise? You know, the footsteps on the stairs, the door slamming, the car?” Eames asked curiously.

“Oh, yeah.” Arthur started. Before he could say anymore Eames shifted, so he was lying with his head in Arthur’s lap. 

“Care to explain why you were scaring the shit out of me night after night?” Eames replied, nonchalantly. 

Arthur laughed. “It wasn’t deliberate. It’s not actually me, it’s not anyone. It’s like the house is a broken record or something. It just repeats that night, like an echo.” Arthur had become very serious again, the hand stroking Eames’ hair stilled. “It happens more when I’m sad. I get stuck in this cycle of having to re-live it, every night. It’s hearing Dom’s screams again, that’s the hardest.”

“Poor bastard, losing his wife and best friend in one night.” Eames took hold of Arthur’s hand. “Maybe, now I’m here, it’ll stop. You won’t be so sad?”

Arthur smiled down at him. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Come here.” Eames dragged Arthur down to his level. The two of them stayed curled on the sofa together until night time consumed the room. 

~

In the time that followed Arthur stayed by Eames’ side as he watched the aftermath of his death. It was one of the hardest things Eames had ever done, the worst being when his mother came over. She’d sat alone in his kitchen and cried for hours. 

Arthur had to drag Eames away in the end.

Arthur had, it seemed, been freed from the endless living memory of the crash that killed him. Not a door slam or tyre screech to be heard. 

Arthur and Eames, along with a trusted Hercules, looked on as a new couple moved into number 43, into their home. Eames leaned over and whispered in Arthur’s ear, “Don’t worry, darling, we’ll have them out in no time.”

Arthur grinned back at him. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.” He pulled Eames in for a kiss. 

And Eames thought to himself, _this is the life._

 

_Con-crit is welcome._

**Author's Note:**

> Also, I'm sorry my ghost!science is so ridiculous. How can Arthur touch things, let alone eat and drink? Why does he still have mobile signal if he's dead? Why would there be the screeching of brakes if the guy driving the car was unconscious? Your guess is as good as mine.


End file.
